


oh, my broken veins say

by shinelikemillions91



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: George is a sad boy, I am a sucker for angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Unrequited Love, a bit angsty i guess, all aboard the self-indulgent train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28693029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinelikemillions91/pseuds/shinelikemillions91
Summary: George aches for Matty, he’s been carrying this dull ache inside him for years, but it’s getting worse. He’s getting worse at hiding it. He’s so in love, so fucking in love that he can't stand it.
Relationships: George Daniel/Matthew Healy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	oh, my broken veins say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outsidethebar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outsidethebar/gifts).



> Hello! I've had this typed up since last summer, and never really thought I'd do anything with it.
> 
> However, I decided to give it a little shiny polish and post it :)
> 
> Dedicated to Tia because she’s an angel x
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated, my darlings <3

George’s heart constricts painfully in his chest as he watches Matty sleep. It’s fitful sleep, but at least it’s sleep. Matty hardly sleeps these days, he paces, and paces, and paces, naps sporadically, bites back angry words at anyone who tries to placate him, and insists that he’s _‘fucking fine, stop smothering me like I’m a fucking child!’_

George knows he’s using again, he knows the telltale signs, and he wants so desperately to help, but Matty is so fucking stubborn that he wouldn’t accept George’s help even if he knew how to offer it anyway. All George knows is that he just has to be there for Matty if Matty needs him, even if all he can bring is comfort.

Matty is beautiful, despite the dark rings under his eyes, and his slightly cracked lips. He’s all dark curls and sharp lines against white laundered sheets, and George can’t help but slowly reach out and rest his hand on the side of Matty’s face, his thumb slowly stroking over the pale skin. He closes his eyes, tries to imagine what this scenario would feel like if it weren’t so tinged with negative implications. His hands on Matty’s skin, dark eyelashes fluttering at the touch. What would Matty say? Would he laugh? No, George thinks he wouldn’t laugh, but would he freak out? Yes, because Matty overthinks everything, gets so stuck in his own head, and George can’t bear to add to any of Matty’s anguish.

But George aches for him, he’s been carrying this dull ache inside him for years, but it’s getting worse. He’s getting worse at hiding it. He’s so in love, so fucking in love that he can't stand it. Despite all of Matty’s flaws, his awful attention span, his overwhelming need to be the centre of attention, and the way in which he makes decisions without consulting the rest of the band. But these things being said, Matty is undeniably brilliant, he has a way with words that leaves George speechless sometimes, he’s so generous with his time and his love, and his passion for everything he does inspires George in ways that he can’t even put into words. They’re so symbiotic, an extension of each other’s personalities in a way that confuses most people who meet them, and they’ve been mistaken for a couple more times than George cares to count. _If only_ , George thinks. _If fucking only._

He lets his hand move slowly upwards to stroke a stray strand of hair from Matty’s face, trying desperately not to wake him, but at the same time, half wishing he would, so that Matty could reassure him that he’s okay. George needs him to be okay. He can’t imagine life without Matty, refuses to entertain the notion, even though he knows that they’ve been close to that a few times. Matty would go out and score in the middle of the night in some of the dodgiest parts of London, would shoot up in dingy alleys, where fuck knows what could have happened to him. But George figures that as long as he has Matty here, sleeping next to him, that nothing can happen to him. Matty is safe here. George hopes Matty knows that, hopes he knows that George would protect him with his life, as cliche as that sounds. George is full of cliches these days, but he’s in love, and love turns you into a walking, talking fucking cliche.

George’s heart has been strung out for years, maybe it’s always been that way, but George can distinctly remember the night they’d all heard Chocolate on the radio for the very first time. They had stayed up, got drunk, Adam and Ross had been there too, and when the opening chords of the song started, Matty had leapt from the sofa, his smile so wide his eyes crinkled, tears running down his cheeks because they had _finally fucking made it_. George had fought his instinct to pull Matty in, he had wanted to kiss Matty so badly in that moment that it made him want to scream, but when Matty had pulled everyone in for a hug, George had buried his face in Matty’s hair and breathed him in, because George always felt like he could breathe a little easier whenever Matty was near.

George leans in now and does it again, presses his face into Matty’s hair and breathes him in slowly, willing Matty to feel it, feel everything that George feels.

_I love you, please get better for me. I love you, please get better for me. I love you, please get better for me. I love you..._

Matty stirs, and George’s heart plummets as he pulls away, cursing himself for getting carried away, going too far. He should have left Matty alone to sleep, but these quiet moments are few and far between, he had wanted to savour them. 

‘George,’ Matty’s voice comes out quiet and scratchy, and as George looks down he sees that Matty’s eyes are a little bleary and unfocused.

‘Yeah, I’m here,’ George says gently, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look over at Matty.

‘Where am I? What-- how long have I been asleep?’

‘A couple of hours,’ George explains, his stomach twisting because he wants to kiss Matty more than he’s ever wanted anything else in his life. ‘Ross and Adam found you passed out in the corridor, they bought you in here with me.’

Matty frowns and bites down on his bottom lip, a trait he pulls when he’s nervous, worried or angry. He stays silent, amplified by the quiet impersonal nature of the hotel room. George hates the silence so he fills it.

‘Are you… okay?’ 

God, George really wishes he was better at this kind of thing.

Matty nods quickly, but it’s heavily juxtaposed against the fact that his eyes are glassy and his bottom lip has started trembling. He shakes his head then. ‘No… no, George, fuck-- I’m not okay,’ he whimpers and clamps his forearm down over his face to hide his tears, and this is George’s cue. He gathers Matty into his arms and holds him tightly against his chest, this part he knows how to do, he knows how to hold Matty when he cries, he’s been doing it long enough.

‘You’re okay, you’re okay,’ George soothes. ‘I’ve got you.’ 

_You’ve got me in every single way, if you’ll have me._

‘I’m fucking it all up,’ Matty stutters, his tears soaking George’s shirt. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry… you’d all be so much better off without me.’

‘Don’t say that,’ George whispers, letting his fingers slowly card their way through Matty’s soft curls. ‘We love you, you’re everything to us. To the band.’ _To me._

Matty struggles weakly in George’s arms, trying his best to pull away, and George lets him, knows better than to try and make Matty do something he doesn’t want to. He lets go and Matty pulls back, sitting up so he can look at George properly.

‘I’m in trouble again,’ he says shakily, and George nods, he knows what Matty means, knows that Matty knows that he knows what it means too. Matty is good with words, but not when it comes to stuff like this. He looks so sad, his face drawn and pale, dark circles under his tired eyes, George needs to soothe him, but George has never been good with words himself, he’s better with touch, so he lets a hand come up and brush the tears from Matty’s cheeks with gentle fingers.

‘We’ll get you through it,’ George ends up saying softly, giving Matty what he hopes is a reassuring smile. ‘We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again. I’m not going anywhere, Matty.’

Matty leans into George’s touch and closes his eyes, letting his face rest in George’s hands, and they’re still like that for what feels like an eternity before Matty speaks.

‘Don’t deserve you, George, you’re so good. You’re so fucking good. What are you doing hanging around with a fuck up like me?’ Matty whispers, still leaning into George’s hand, and George lets his thumb rub against the skin again, his touch seems to be calming Matty down.

‘I am a pretty cool guy,’ George replies, aiming for humour, longing to see Matty smile, and it works, just a little bit when a small smile creeps onto Matty’s tear stained face.

‘You’re actually a fucking loser,’ comes Matty’s soft retort, but there’s no malice behind his words, just a fondness that comes from being so close for so long.

‘Can’t fool you,’ George says fondly, and it’s true, he feels like Matty can see straight through him sometimes, they have no secrets. Apart from one.

‘Can’t fool me,’ Matty echoes quietly, his tired eyes slipping closed once again.

George watches him, every single fibre of his being screaming at him to kiss Matty, to just fucking do it, at least if he does then he’ll have an answer. He’ll no longer be torturing himself with the countless what ifs because sometimes, just sometimes he thinks that Matty might feel it too. Small touches, the things he says, the way he’ll come and curl up in George’s lap on the tour bus if he’s tired or feeling a little bit under the weather. He even announced on live TV once that they were getting fucking married for fucks’s sake! It means something, it has to mean something.

‘You can kiss me if you want,’ Matty says quietly, and George stills immediately because apparently now they’re on the same level, so much so, that Matty can read George’s mind even when his fucking eyes are closed. ‘I can feel you staring at me… don’t be a pussy, George.’

George swallows, his heart drumming in his chest as he pushes down his nerves and leans forward, allowing his lips to gently touch Matty’s lightly before pulling away. Much to most people’s surprise, he and Matty have only kissed once, a drunken snog during truth or dare as teenagers, when George had been too young and dumb to realise how much Matty would end up meaning to him. 

He watches as Matty’s brow furrows and he opens his eyes to look at George pointedly.

‘That was rubbish.’

‘I didn’t realise I was being fucking graded here,’ George mumbles, he feels wrong-footed, and the way Matty is looking at him makes something churn in his stomach.

‘You wanna kiss me then you might as well do it properly.’

George leans in quicker this time, slots their lips together, and he’s almost trembling because this is all he wants, and he knows it’s probably a mistake. Matty is coming down from god knows what, and George should stop but everything in his body is telling him to carry on. To kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him until they’re weak and shaking.

Matty pulls away first this time, a smug, contented look on his face.

‘Better, much better.’

Matty leans back against the sheets, a small, half-smile on his face, and George sees flashes in his mind of what could be. Of bare skin, bodies flushed together, air thick with sex and sweat, but he pushes it aside. This isn't the time for any of that, and maybe there never will be the right time. Maybe he and Matty are destined to orbit each other, to circle round and round without ever properly colliding. The thought makes George’s heart hurt.

Neither of them say anything for a while until Matty breaks the silence.

‘Will you hold me until I fall asleep?’

And how can George refuse?

He wraps his arms around Matty from behind, like they’ve done thousands of times. They fit so well together it’s like they’re made to hold each other like this. He allows Matty to lean back into his chest, his face pressed into the back of Matty’s neck. He remembers wistfully the nights they spent like this when they were younger, when things were easier, when they shared that tiny double bed in their first ever flat. Spooned up together because honestly, they didn’t really have a choice, it was the only way to sleep comfortably. They would stay awake until the early hours of the morning, talking quietly, with George’s face pressed into the back of Matty’s neck, much like they are now, sharing secrets and insecurities that they would only dare to speak when they were close like that. Adam and Ross would tease them mercilessly, but they didn’t care. They’re some of George’s happiest memories, and George vows to hold onto them until the day he dies.

‘You’ll be here when I wake up?’ Matty mumbles, breaking George out of his nostalgic musings. He sounds like he’s half-way to sleep already.

‘Of course,’ George says gently. ‘I always am.’

_And I always will be._

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'm 'healybedford' on Tumblr, come say hi :)


End file.
